The Gamut

Yesterday was wonderlovely. My kid wouldn’t mind me so I grounded her, which gave me the pleasure of sending her little monster friends away. Of course, the fuckers came back THREE TIMES in spite of being told not to come back because she is grounded. The third time, they woke me from a pleasant nap, outside screaming my name, telling me my cat was trapped in my car and couldn’t get out. Um, the windows were both down, how he got in the car to begin with, think he can figure out to exit that way too., Manipulative little brats. I ignored them. Still salty I can’t take a fucking nap.

I think yesterday was the lowest stress day I have had all summer. Proof the problem isn’t entirely me, it’s the badly behaved children.

Today was…I went to use my debit card to get cash to pay rent and the ATM rejected it, saying to contact card issuer. Well, it took me an hour to get a live person on the line and even longer to get one who didn’t have an accent so think I couldn’t understand them. They kept telling me to do this, I kept explaining the damn machine wouldn’t even let me get to that screen. It sent me into a panic and I have no grace when I panic.

Finally got it worked out.

Realized I don’t have enough money to pay all my bills. Not new, but still it’s fucking stressful. And more stressful is people telling me, “Get a job and stop griping.” First, I have applied for any job I am remotely capable of doing for two years. NO ONE WANTS ME. Second, if anyone knows of a place that will hire me and work around all my mental issues, I will start work this fucking minute. Can’t guarentee I will be functional for very long, but I am willing t try. I have always been willing to try.

And my darling daughter ended up grounded again, because by the time she has blatantly disobeyed me for the sixth time in an hour, I feel justified in trying to teach her that is wrong. And like a bad VD, the devil girls come knocking on the door. Prior to this, Spook was not grounded and was playing out in the yard. But noo, they were playing with other kids their age and just ignored her. I told them she was grounded again and shut the door in their face. (These kids actually barrel their way inside if you don’t take a solid position.) Not ten minutes later they came back. I was just like, how dumb can they be? “We want to play.” Um, I’m the adult, I said no, please leave.

Those two girls are enough to make me want to acquire a Unabomber shack and shun all contact with people. I have always tried to view kids as being basically kid, sometimes they’re just not taught well and they have bad behavior. These two truly are satan children. I don’t like them. I want to. I just don’t.

Speaking of want…

My depression is coming on. Be it the upcoming season change or going off the anti depressant…It’s coming. I can feel it. Feel the joy leaving the things that normally make me giddy,

But that started right after i had my kid. My mom said, “You can’t be depressed anymore, you have to think of your baby.”

Sometimes wonder if she didn’t jinx it. Depression doesn’t give a fuck if you have a kid or kids. It doesn’t care if you’re a goddamn genius or cured cancer. It’s an ILLNESS, not a goddamn choice.

My mother burns me up because when I was 16, she signed herself into the psych ward for depression and anxiety, which left me to take a leave of absence from my job and take care of dad and my sister as well as all the household stuff, the pets, the bills, the errands…That she has the nerve to tell me I “can’t” be depressed because it’s some sort of affront to my kid makes me want to rip her stupid head off her shoulders.

I do wonder why I didn'[t experience this loss of will to live prior to having my kid. I now serve a purpose, and yet I just have so little life left in me. So little joy. Fleeting tastes of joy, and yet, this wall in my mind that won’t let it be more than fleeting, won’t let me see a future worth living, won’t allow me to think I might actually enhance my child’s life as oppose to be a hindrance.

It’s like you know you need to do dishes or laundry or whatever…And you want to want to do it but you’re not feeling it. And it doesn’t get done, even though you feel shitty about not doing it so you flog yourself mentally…

That’s what my life has become.

I want to want to live.

But for the most part, I don’t.

I don’t want to die.

But I just can’t find joy in any meaningful way. Everything is a bucket of suck.

3 Responses to “The Gamut”

I want to know why people cant differentiate un motivation and mental illness. It’s like once the mess in your head is cleared then you can start on the mess in the floor and even if you tackle and will yourself and drag yourself to clear the floor first, once you’re finished you sit back and feel accomplished in some way but your head is still fuzzy and just as bad as before. It just means you no longer have a distraction.

I’ve just come to accept that I’m not Harriet the Homemaker anymore. As I’ve gotten older, that’s one of the things I’ve had to let go of.(and my husband grew up in a home that definitely wasn’t perfect, so I’m not under pressure). Still, I DO want my home to be perfect, like a magazine, but it’s a pipe dream. People who don’t have mental illness most often just don’t understand. But we can understand each other, so that’s comforting to me!